I'm Not Okay
by macgyvershe
Summary: One shot. How did Molly help Sherlock as he fell, after the fall and all the way back to his life. This also has my theory on how Sherlock faked his death. The red truck can be seen in the movie.


**I'm Not Okay**

**(How Sherlock faked the Fall)**

Molly and Sherlock

Molly had never seen Sherlock like this. He looked fragile.

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am? Would you still what to help me?" Sherlock said his face no longer a mask, but a transparency filled with self doubt, hurt and fear.

"What do you need?" Molly had asked with certainty.

"You." Sherlock had answered. Never in his life had he ever needed to ask for help.

tick*tick*tick*

She had been the first to notice that Sherlock was sad when John wasn't looking. She knew what that meant. She knew that something was very wrong, something fatally wrong and when Sherlock had turned to her for help; she'd become what she had always been, someone Sherlock could count on and trust with his life.

Now as they wheeled Sherlock into the morgue, she helped her aides lift him onto her table. She checked his vitals and moved to a nearby tray. There a syringe waits filled with antidote for the drug that Sherlock had swallowed after the fall. Molly injects him with the antidote that will start his heart pumping again. The injection works within seconds, his vitals were all back and he takes a breath. His eyes flicker then sharpen to laser clarity.

Molly is still holding his pulse point and she feels it spike as Sherlock looks at her with the clarity and focus that had always set him apart from other men.

"Molly, you have provided…" his voice trailed off as he reassessed his words. "Thank you, Molly. Without your help, I'd be dead," Sherlock said as he sat up on the table.

"Are you okay? The fall, did you land in the air bag properly?" Molly was genuinely concerned; looking for any sign of injury, now would be the time to catch it, not later.

"The truck was right on schedule the air bag cushioned my fall. I have some minor bruising, but all is in tack."

Sherlock had jumped into the green, white and blue airbags that had been inflated in the back of a red truck. Then he rolled from the deflating bags onto the pavement, smashing a breakable bag of blood on his head, making sure the excess spilled onto the ground around him; then throwing the bag as far as he could. Finally, he broken the pill that he had secreted in his mouth that would stop his vital signs. Then everything depended on everyone else.

He'd planned on going to the roof and take Moriarty down, throwing him off or shooting him with the small gun that he had in his pocket was the idea. But once again Moriarty was a step ahead of him and he'd had to move on to the hastily hatched plan B that was more dangerous in that it was untested in its completion.

The bicyclist was all important in knocking John down, hard enough to stun him but not hard enough to hurt him. All the members of the medical team where to hold John away for a long as possible. Hopefully, John was stunned enough to not see through the facade that was so very tenuous. Then the staff from inside of Bart's had to come out immediately and pulled Sherlock into the morgue so that Molly could administer the antidote that had to taken immediately. Everything depended on so many people; people that Sherlock knew but had never dreamed would hold his life in their hands.

"I have to go now, Molly. It the corpse ready to take my place in the morgue?"

"Yes," Molly said bravely. She knew that she and her people would have to keep the secret of Sherlock's death. John and Mycroft could not be told. Everyone would have to be kept in the dark. Sherlock would not risk any of his friends or family suffering any further harm.

Molly, can you please look after John for me? Where I am going, what I'm about to do, I may be going to my death. Better that everyone doesn't have to go through my dying twice. I will stay in touch with you and tell you what is happening. If you could please watch over John and let me know how he is fairing, I would appreciate it?

Molly smiled and Sherlock wondered why he'd never seen her strength and beauty before. Why he'd never acknowledged how resourceful, intelligent and caring she was.

When this is over, Molly I promise that things will be different between us. I have two friends now, you and John. And, by far, you are the prettier of the two.

Sherlock took diminutive Molly in his strong arms and bent to kiss her to-small-lips. Not a brotherly kiss, not a kiss of gratitude, but a kiss that said, I see you now, I know who you are and what you are to me; a kiss that Molly would hold forever in her heart.

"I've got to go, Molly," Sherlock said as he released her.

"You be safe, I'll be waiting for your calls." Molly said as she touched his face one last time.

Sherlock released her and exited the morgue. Molly didn't cry though part of her wanted to; she

knew she wouldn't see him again for a very long time.


End file.
